The war is a cell divided
against itself, it is
a hatching demon breath,
smoke in the cupboards, a break in the sky.
Drown me in the light and let
this leprosy be clipped.
It pours through the phone line
at a deafening pitch and twists
my flesh like an old shoestring.
My hand is thrust into this insect’s nest.
I am back to the thin branch and the foul
stench of thirst and cruel senselessness.
Back to the depolarized constellations
and the gem crushed by a lizard’s curled-up tongue.
Back to a misshapened childhood
of sibling grief, and the slow, unconquerable gait
of someone else’s money.
Copyright © 2002 by Allison Grayhurst
Published in “Occulum” August 2017
First published in “Rusted Rose Poetry Forum” November 2015
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“Allison Grayhurst intertwines a potent spirituality throughout her work so that each poem is not simply a statement or observation, but a revelation that demands the reader’s personal involvement. Grayhurst’s poetic genius is profound and evident. Her voice is uniquely authentic, undeniable in its dignified vulnerability as it is in its significance,” Kyp Harness, singer/songwriter, author.
“Allison Grayhurst’s poems are like cathedrals witnessing and articulating in unflinching graphic detail the gritty angst and grief of life, while taking it to rare clarity, calm and comfort. Grayhurst’s work is haunting, majestic and cleansing, often leaving one breathless in the wake of its intelligence, hope, faith and love amidst the muck of life. Many of Allison Grayhurst’s poems are simply masterpieces. Grayhurst’s poetry is a lighthouse of intelligent honour… indeed, intelligence rips through her work like white water,” Taylor Jane Green, Registered Spiritual Psychotherapist and author.